by Kristin Borders Sherrow had been sitting on the gray metal bench half the afternoon, deep in thought, when the moody stranger approached from the corner of Allan and Lamott. The kid was young, late twenties or early thirties maybe, but each step had a slight catch to it—a limp…
by Tobie Shapiro The man had been tearing through the closet in ten-minute sessions of escalating deranged frenzy. The woman observed with decreasing detachment. “Honey. Stop.” His argument: “If I quit now,” he looked up with obsession in his eyes, “all this was an embarrassing waste of time. If you…